Fear of a Sister: A Guild Wars Story
by Sabyl Kossa
Summary: Sabyl Kossa, a young ritualist haunted by her past, embarks on a journey to complete her training, only to be led into the course of events which will either bring her peace or forever consume her in the fears of her childhood...
1. Prolouge

**AN:** Firstly, this is not a self-insert. I created this penname ignorant to what kind of story I was going to write, and the character (Sabyl Kossa) the story is focused around was created long before either this penname or this story. Secondly, this is not only my first story on ffn, but my first fanfic. Any constructive critism would be greatly appreciated, and I hope to see a great deal of enthusiasm in it being given, for I assure you I shall enthusiastically recieve it. Lastly, MidnightAbyss beta read this, and so I would like to extend a huge thanks to her not only for that, but for bringing me to ffn which thus inspired the writing of this fanfic.

**Disclaimer: **Guild Wars is the property of ArenaNet and NCsoft, and various characters that may be used later in the series may also be such. Sabyl and Zyyb Kossa are properties of me, and though I doubt anyone would want to write a fanfic about them I request that anyone wishing to do so contact me first. Anyone who does not do so and posts a story with their names will quickly be reported for the theft of my names. They are obviously uncommon names so there will be little doubt where they came from, so please, if you absolutely feel the need to, just ask, and don't expect the response you want to hear. As said in the AN this is not a self-insert. Sabyl Kossa preceeds my registration and this story.

_Prologue_

Ever since we were children Zyyb and I frightened eachother. You see, we were both gifted children of the god, Grenth: God of Ice and Death. However, though we were sisters of blood, talent, and faith, we typically managed to sicken, unnerve, and sometimes terrify one another...

Zyyb was, and still is, a Necromancer, and often spent her training in crypts and graveyards, raising the decaying bodies of the dead to do their bidding. As we grew older she explained it as a pact between Grenth, that he may keep the soul of the body (which I hear is what he truely desires) and in return for her faith is granted the ability to reincarnate the corpses of the recently deceased and use them for her own personal desire. The 'minions' are only as durable as their host, and the power of the Necromancer. If left unattended, they will simply die out, and so she also had to learn ways to increase the lifespan of her minions by sacrificing her own. She assured me her sacrifices were in no way long term, and were quickly mended unlike that of her minions, as she never fails to mention. There are other things involved too, dark rites and rituals, command over insect swarms, and, eventually, an unusual outlook on death itself.

I, however, am a Ritualist. I have direct control over Grenth's beloved souls and bend them to my will with, what is best described as, spiritual chains and shackles, and, for the more difficult or unruly, heavily weighted armor. I am, to this day, unsure of how spirits whom are unaffected by weight and physical substance can be chained or weighed down, but my masters often reassured me that the words I previously used are merely similes and easily fathomable terms for what we are really doing. Typically, the spirits I summon are those of emotion or action, and are defined by the aforementioned. For example, a spirit of Pain will cause direct pain to another, while a spirit of Life will live the duration of it's life, roughly twenty seconds, and then die to grant life to friends and allies around it. As with the Necromancer, the duration and strength of the spirit is also defined by the strength of the Ritualist. Furthermore, I am granted power over both the healing and destructive aspects of the spirits to use as I will.

While upon reading this, the actions may seem intreguing, and may even convince you to attempt such things yourself, it shall prove to no avail. If you are able to read these words and are not yet honing the gifts Grenth (or any other god) has given you you are probably incapable of doing such. I must encourage that the lack of the aforementioned abilities should not be something to mourn, for such gifts, atleast in the case of my god, Grenth, can be just as easily a curse, for many a night I have been robbed of sleep by the things I have seen that were done by my gift, but even more nights was my sleep robbed by the things my sister has done. I do not blame her, nor does she blame me, for we both understand that this is simply the way our gifts have manifested, and neither of us would ever have the audacity to proclaim that one's gift is no more or less frightening than the others.

The years, all the way up to that of womanhood, were spent honing the skills of our various gifts from Grenth, and when the time came to depart, our ever still present fear of eachother caused us to part not only our homes, but our seperate ways. I never asked where she had headed, nor did she I. I figured, however, that my destination was obvious, for the only place I could complete, and advance, my training was at the Shing Jea Monastery of Cantha.

It might suprise you to tell you that I'm blind. All ritualists are atleast physically. However, I'll argue anyday that my vision is probably sharper and more efficient than that of your eyes. Instead of seeing things on the surface, the way most people do, we look at things directly at the soul. As I walked down the road leading to a harbor town of my small island (which had never really recieved a name due to the fact it was not near enough to any of the major continents to have been discovered, and that it was owned not by men, but by Grenth itself) I was amazed by the number of souls that inhabited his place. The place I had lived was dead due to the touch of Grenth found there, but here the world was teeming with life. I was amazed by the spiritual glow of grass, and how strange it seemed to see spirit so carved and directed as the road before me, and with every new spirit I saw, whether it bird, animal, plant, or earth, made me feel in some way more whole, for it helped me to realize just how much there was to see and feel in this world, and how much really did exist. However, it was not only my blindfolded eyes that saw, for with every new spirit I would feel, smell, hear, and sometimes even taste it just to feel closer to it. I'll admit many of the things I did I could have lived without doing, but after seeing for all my years the dead and shackled spirits of Grenth it made me feel suddenly alive to see those that were living and that I had no control of, and it was then, on this road, many days away from my destination, that my life would change forever.


	2. Chapter I: A Sister of Life

**AN:** Sorry if it took too long to get this on here. I lost internet and just recently got it back. I was extremely disappointed in the lack of reviews, and hope to see some when it comes to this story. Once again MidnightAbyss was my beta reader. I hope you enjoy this addition. It was extremely intense to write, I assure you. Please review!

_Chapter I: Sister of Life_

I reach down and lift the small turtle from the grassy earth. The grass here is tall and golden with a hint of green. I had strayed from the road, but had made sure to keep it in sight. The rolling hills of this region seem to be like the thread that ties the ice capped mountains to the far east and the lake to the left of my traveled path together. The air here is warm, yet with it's thick, mist-like moistness make it feel as if I were in a fog or if I had just been sprayed by the waves caused by the warm westerly wind. Few trees dot the hills yet there is one behind me and slightly to my right, a cherry blossom. From this tree I find that I currently kneel just a few steps out of it's shadow's reach. The wind is not steady, but slows and quickens as if the lake itself is breathing towards the mountains, carrying with it the sounds of life. Luckily, the distant mountains had not decided to return with its own frigid breath. The air smelled beautiful here scented with the smell of the lake, the grass in the warm air, and the occasional stray cherry blossom. It seemed so different from the dark and dead land of my home that it was hard to believe that I was even on the same island. As I felt it stir I looked down, once again, at the turtle now slowly trying to walk away from my outstretched hands. It's spirit glowed of patience and it's age made it seem wise and me a child, and like a child I smiled with glee, holding it, smelling it, and then, finally licking it, and that's when I heard a voice behind me. A voice like the wind blowing, and the bark of trees, the song of birds, and chirping of insects, and then I realized it sounded in someway like the essence of everything living I had heard, and it was laughing. I turned to see a glowing light that seemed strangely familiar. It was a glowing gold and reminded me of both a playful child and a wise old crone, but mostly it was more alive than anything I had ever seen before.

"You know, I have, in all my years, trained and watched thousands, and not even my most eager had gone to the lengths you have to understand life."

She says this with an amused smile, and at the same time with masked authority. This person is someone who trained and taught. She is a teacher. I stood up quickly and looked in her general direction. She is like nobody I had ever seen before, yet somehow, and possibly the most frightening fact of all, was that she was both a woman and a man, yet was a woman through desire alone. She is beautiful, yet for some reason I cannot quite see a figure. I cannot tell exactly what she looks like, for it seemed as if the sun was in my eyes and only an illusion of a face could be seen.

"I am pleased to hear this, however there is only one kind of teacher here, and they do not watch people as they celebrate life, but as they control death."

The woman sighs and then says, "What you speak, young ritualist, is true, and I would not have come here so close to my brother had I not seen one who seemed so engulfed in the life around her. I can not tell how much it warmed my heart to see you, and if it were in my ability, I am sure I would have shed tears."

Her words touch me with a sense of tenderness and love that I had never felt before, and I find that I am now crying; the tears collecting against the rag that covered the top of my head and eyes. I know that her words were filled with what I had made her feel, and it burns so warmly with happiness that it hurts to know that I had, for once in my life, brought happiness and such pure joy to another instead of fear. I didn't even notice her approach until I am suddenly wrapped in her arms. She shushs me with a certain comforting tenderness that is unfamiliar to me, and only causes me to cry that much harder, and though her voice becomes silent her touch still speaks to me in comfort and love and in what seems like forever I cry. The woman holds me patiently and does not try to stop me, or even grow impatient. Every second that she holds me she is genuinely and sincerely devoted to my comfort and calming. It is only when I could cry no longer, and that I breathe long and deep long enough that I could finally compose myself. I step back and she makes no effort to stop me, nor to direct my actions, and once I feel it is safe to speak I say, if only to lighten the mood, "I would not want to meet your brother."

Her mood becomes solemn, and she says in reply, "Unfortunately child you have. You see his name is Grenth."

The world stops. The wind does not blow. The birds do not fly. The grass does not move. Sound stops in mid-travel. The world stops as the enormity of what she said crashes down on me like the world is on my shoulders. I can not speak, and I am no longer in control. My body is in shock. My mind is in shock. I can not move. I can not breathe. I begin to shake, and suddenly my lungs, my breath; the world shakes with me. My lungs, my breath, my body shakes, and with a weak voice I ask stuttering, "Wh... what?"

She now speaks to me as a teacher, "My name is Melandru."

The shock this time makes that of before seem insignifigant. The light fades to reveal a sylvan woman with skin of tree bark and with clothes made of leaf growing from her body which was as beautiful as a sculpture. Like a tree, a few branches grew from her shoulders, arms, and head and her wooden face was suprisingly soft and beautiful despite being of wood and bark. My vision darkens and I begin to fall only to be caught in her arms. The world is fading and I can not understand what she is saying. Then suddenly, the shock is gone and I am fully coherant; still in her arms.

She looks down at me and smiles, "Relax now, child. I did not mean to startle you. However, my presence as a goddess does proceed me, and I suppose it was too much to hope that you would have known me well enough by now not to be so shocked."

I could not reply. I can only stare at her with blindfolded eyes as blankly as my mind. She then lies me down upon the grass, stands, and says gently, "Sabyl, may one day in the future, when time is on your side and it once again permits you so, look upon life as you did today, so that I may feel as I did, and in return I shall make you feel as wonderful as I."

I could only stare back at her, and, in all seriousness and in whispered silence say, "You did."

With that she smiles, turns away from me, and walks away fading into nothingness. The only sound I can hear is that of the blowing wind. The rest of the world is silent, and the sun is now setting with its brilliant oranges, purples, pinks, and colors that of which had no name that I could recognize. The wind begins to cool, yet the ground beneath me is still warm from the day's sun and its beams upon the earth, and the tall grass serves as both a cushion below me and a sense of comfort around me. The scent of the air is now less vibrant, as if smell, like the rest of life, slows down and then stops as nighttime comes. I take a deep breath and the fatigue of today's journey begins to set in. Finally, as the sun sets, and the spirits of the stars illuminate the sky, my unseeing eyes close, and the colors of the spirits, as they have since birth, lull me to sleep.


	3. Chapter II: Sister of Past and Future

**AN:** I could give you an excuse for each day this was postponed, an excuse, but only few truly valid reasons. There is no beta reader for this chapter, yet I hope that it is of enough substantial quality to make for it's lack of length and prudence.

_Chapter II: Sister of Past and Future_

The next few days passed in silence. There was no licking of animals, or exploraton of the things around me. My mind was all consumed by both the encounter with the goddess Melandru, and the internal struggle of peace and fear that for the first time in my life resided with in me. My pure childish glee was now matured into a love of life that seemed be unable to coexist with the fears and death of my past. I scarcely noticed the passing of days, and it wasn't until the smell of the salty ocean reached me that I was made aware of my surroundings.

I take in a deep breath, the smell of salt so strong I feel the need to spit it from my mouth. The road here is not carved of dark earth or stone but of a lighter toned earth mixed with sand, possibly from the flooding of great storms. I remember only once in my childhood a storm powerful enough to reach the center of the island which was my home...

_The wind was so strong that I could barely keep to the ground. The dark cryptic buildings that were my home were more frightful than ever as the lightning revealed in blindingly plain view the grotesque nature of the creatures carved upon them. Gargoyles and imps lined the corners of the stone buildings with sinister design. The servants and elders alike worked quickly to lead the people to safety. There was a terror in the air unlike any before. Servants of Grenth are always afraid unless that fear brings them to insanity, but the unfamiliar threat of nature was something so alien in that we were completely unguarded and unprepared as it's overwhelming power smashed fear into us like cavalry into a line of infantry, something I had seen only a few times as Zyyb was forced to use her minions as a undead shield against the guards all mounted upon horses brandishing long wooden lances the length of small trees. It was strange to recall the shattering splinters of wood and the unsightly wounds upon the minions as the lances smashed against their unfeeling undead flesh. I could almost could see the wood splinters flying even now. The feel of the earth shaking beneath my feet as a line of horses, hooves weighed down by beast, man, and armor, not too unlike the sound of thunder, or the feel of the air and the earth as thunder and lightning seek to shake the very foundations of our world. The sound of that shaking, of screams, of splintering wood, and rock, of children crying, of the wind whooshing by the mere speed of it. Yes, but the most frightining aspect of it all was not my dear sister's screams and tears, the sight or sound of wood ripping flesh, breaking bone, splintering wood, the way the earth shook beneath me, the wind flew past me and shook from it's disturbance as it seeks to alarm you of it's disposition, and seek it's previous serenity. It was the intensity of emotion and spirit, rage, anger, fear, terror, pain, anguish, agony, and bloodlust, and this too the storm carried, along with hatred, Grenth's hatred, as if Dwayna had sought to show him that she could reach him even there, and he had sworn a revenge in blind, passionate, rage incarnate!_

_"Look out!" I was broken from my flashback to witness in horror as the wood splinters flew not from my past, but from a tree that a chance strike of lightning had felled before me and was, even now, decending upon me. I could not move, only raise my arms helplessly above me as the tree decended. The ground began to shake in what I assumed was the smashing of the lightning against the earth. Then I saw it... from the ground before me shot up an abomination the likes of which I had never seen. It had a skull that reached from foot to mid-waist and a series of spiked bones that traveled down the coarse of it's back. Both it's feet and left hand held claws the size of oxen horns, yet it's right hand had been mutilated into a fleshy axe that was lined at the end by bone. Even hunched over as it was it stood a third taller than the tallest of my masters. The flesh that bound the bones together gave it a large, hulking presence. Its eyes glew in the stormy night and it reached up to catch the length of the descending tree in its left hand, before smashing it to splinters with its axe-ridden right arm. I turned to see Zyyb controlling it with the cool calmness of a mistress, yet I could see beneath her obvious calmness by the trembling of her limbs and the horror of her widened eyes. Many elders had just ran around the corner to stop in shock as the great looming figure turned towards Zyyb. Its eyes betrayed its intent. It would not follow a weak master, much less a shaking young mistress. It began to walk towards her not even aware of me as it stepped over me with ease. It stood before Zyyb in challenge, and that is when the true power of my beloved sister was shown._

_It seemed fitting for dark forces to grow stronger in the rain, the water of Grenth's element, and it was almost to no suprise in hindsight that Zyyb steeled herself, her shaking limbs steadied. She brandished her cesta gauntlet, calmly flexing her fingers before backhanding the creature with all her strength. It did not move, and was not even harmed by her strike, yet an unmistakable change overtook it as it now no longer challenged her; served her almost as if out of fear. Zyyb flicked her wrist upward and then downward, and the creature, once again, stepped over me before burrowing back into the earth. Zyyb walked over to me and helped me up. She said nothing, but her eyes showed no love, only contempt at my own weakness..._

I approach the unwalled harbor town, and a solemness seems to take over me, whether from the memories that I now force into the dark recesses of my mind, or the sight of foreign travellers, almost all in tears, all come to pay respects to their fallen companions who had thus traveled into Grenth's hands.

Grenth would show no such respect. They would perhaps be risen one day as the foes of these people, and the split second of hesitation that would come from this would be enough as the body of their former friend acted with the will of their caller, the will of Grenth, as they gave him yet another to call his own. That was a reality all must realize, especially those who served him, for we too must summon such potental friends, companions; family. We must not give our opponents the second of hesitation or we would be the ones to be called his own, as we were before, but now differently. No longer agents, but slaves, we would be used to his pleasure and end for all time. That is why we have no friends, we have no companions; we have no family. Zyyb had learned the lesson well. - as had I.

Now as I walk through the shodden town, roads and walls covered and buried in mud, graveyards lining the mountain's edge as the dead continue to return to the home of their master, the foolish travelers from distant lands, testiment to the weakness and failure of those, like myself, whom had taken this journey and had since seen the world I have yet to discover, salt-covered tears wet this place as often as salt-ridden ocean, and the sound of crashing waves was overpowered only by the sounds of sorrow and breaking hearts. There is a secret woven in the mist that can be seen as one approaches shore and harbor. Thus I too see as I walk upon the damp planks of the harbor, the sound of sodden wood, contrast to the stony sounds of my home, sharp, echoing, revealing the presence of all. It is thus even now, as a man in strange clothing, foreign to this land, Canthan, approaches me. His narrow eyes little more than slits upon his head, and his pale skin featuring a unique tint of yellow. He carries himself with graceful fluidity, tall pride, and the scented air of something sweet seems to follow in an almost suffocating cloud, "Greetings, young traveler, I take it this is your first time to approach the seas?"

I stood there, uncomfortable, and in slight shock as he seemed to walk with such arrogant confidence upon Grenth's shore, "Indeed, how is it that you know this, or that you walk so confidently upon the shores of Grenth?"

The man eyes me, respectfully, but with a knowing gleam, "All sailors know to respect Grenth, and the seas he lays claim to, or else we'll quickly be reminded what else he's god of." The man chuckles at his own subtle joke, I do not, Grenth was nothing to joke about.

He looks down to see what was apparent, that I was not laughing, and at this he gives a sigh, "I see you're just like all the newcomers, that'll change in time, or it won't." He shakes his head and steps to one side of the dock, "Carry on, young ritualist, passage is free for a first timer."

It is thus that I make my way down the dock, towards a boat that even now he leads me to, and on towards the future unknown...


End file.
